Sunday, 13 August 2017

Madness Everywhere

So we just had elections last week and surprise surprise, the incumbent won.

Whether Frick won or Frack won, Kenyans were fucked so I wasn't too concerned. Shit happens, elections are a control device used by those in power to make those they rule feel empowered. I get it. If it actually made a difference they wouldn't let us vote.
Which is why it makes me triply sad when people get themselves hurt or killed over these niggas. (I can call these ones niggas coz they're my people). Between 18 and 24 people are confirmed dead according to various reports. Frack would have you think that they're about a hundred but he is definitely Seth, God of Chaos in this analogy. It's not even analogy. The guy likes chaos as long as the result is that he gets what he wants. He's selfish like that. I don't know why people don't see it.
I almost prefer the petulant, vindictive, criminal baby that is Frick.
It's Joffery vs. Little Finger...who is worse?
I was just telling my beta how helpless I feel by it all and she said, you're not helpless, you're a writer.
True dat huh?
Of course, these are not the only horrible things happening this week. Inadequate and childish leadership is a worldwide problem these days. I blame your parents, clearly, they neglected to raise you. So Kim Jon whatever is threatening to bomb Guam with nuclear weapons.
Nuclear weapons.
And of course, Donald Trump gave the Chuck Norris response.
You know my book, The Post (working title) is about a post-apocalyptic world, where damage from an asteroid is compounded by nuclear waste set loose upon the earth. It's beginning to feel like my book might come true before I have a chance to finish it. Like.for real though.
I would really like to ask those people who allegedly voted for Trump to shake things up, is it going how you imagined or...? Like really, how do you even sleep at night?
Oh, wait, I know, with opioids.
I'm surprised nobody's made the connection between the opioid crisis and the current state of the union but oh well, what do I know, right?
Has someone tried to superimpose the drug map with the map of how people voted? Someone should try it.
This post was about Colin Kaepernick and the fact that him taking the knee has resulted in him being blacklisted by the NFL. Now while a bunch of old men deciding that Kaep is not good enough for them does not surprise me, what did - and I don't know why it did because I should know better by now - was the no-response response from so called...anybody. Civil rights leaders, Black Lives Matter, twitter one except Charlemagne tha God was speaking about this atrocity. Oh, and Shaun King. I mean really....

Worse than that, black men were at the forefront of condemning his actions and supporting the NFL blacklist on the premise that Colin 'brought it on himself'.
Black American people are their own worst enemies.

I saw this post on Instagram yesterday about Michael Rappaport condemning the #Charlottesville and I was curious about what would be said in the comments in response. Would people be happy? Supportive? Because also yesterday I saw a lot of posts from the Guardians of Blackness admonishing white people for not speaking up. So here is a white guy, really white, like pale, speaking out. Calling those demonstrators 'dorm room dumb fucks' and 'losers' and basically condemning them to the furthest pits of hell.
What do you think the most prevalent comment was?
"Isn't that the dude from higher learning? Didn't he portray a skin head?"
An actor, acting a role, in a movie...speaks out against white supremacy. But instead of adding your two cents maybe to that condemnation, or having some other positive, relevant response, you look for anything you can shade him for.

I'm not even going to pretend to understand the mindset. But I do know that the current status quo is taking us nowhere. Maybe we need to stop pointing fingers outward and just really work on ourselves? Be a better you? Start with the man in the mirror? All a' dat crap.
Also here's an excerpt from Child of Destiny which also deals with a lot of themes to do with discrimination and mind sets and seeing the other point of view.

Saturday, 5 August 2017

And the Winner is...

So I had this little promotion for;

The Post-Apocalyptic Demon Hunter’s Reintegration into Normal Society 

First of all, I gotta tell you about that name. See I was reading this fan fiction about Demon!Dean...or was it BoyKing!Sam? I'm old, it was a while ago. 

Anyway so in this story they were trying to get through the apocalypse and I think someone, my instinct is it was Crowley was making snide remarks about their ability to have a life after hunting....
And, he sarcastically said someone should write a book about it, with the above title.
So I did.
It's just a working title though. I'm not sure if it will survive final edits. I'd like to hear your thoughts about that. For one thing, it's a little difficult to remember no? Talk to me.
So anyway, I'm writing, and my beta reader is editing. And we're really enjoying ourselves as we race to that deadline at the end of this month.
Will we make it?
Will we fail?
Tune in next week...
So we had the small promotional competition where the reader was asked to reimagine what happened before the excerpt given in a picture. This picture.
The writing wasn't very clear, deliberately because I need to know that you love me enough to make the effort to read it. :)
I got a few replies. Thank you very much to everyone who took the time to write something. Most of them were one-sentence type things. I get it, it's hard to go out on a limb and just give a blurb on someone else's story. Which is why Lesley Awino wins. This is what she wrote.
The sun seemed to be scorching the life out of everything they had passed. People had been dropping dead since long before Kevin and Alec even thought to pass this way. Even here, in the Acadia National park, rows and rows of bodies with malformed skin lay everywhere, and the stench was unbelievable. None of these poor souls would have passed for a melanated child of the sun. And so the sun scorched them out of existence.
Kevin and Alec's story was wildly different. They were simply trying to get back home to Kenya. It had been bad when all this started, but now there was barely any way to go straight home. Every form of land transport with metal or plastic or rubber had rendered unusable because of the heat. And so the two walked. From New York, all the way to Maine. They had made it this far on the hope, no, belief that there had to be a ship they could use to get home. For now, they were both exhausted, and needed rest. And then Kevin spotted one of those rare pools of clear water.
I gotta admit, it's very good huh? The description almost has me dying of thirst and seeing rotting bodies everywhere. And it fits in the story except for the fact that they're on the wrong continent.
Can we all give her a round of applause?
 I almost feel shy to post what ACTUALLY came before...but here it is for your edification and comparison. Oh and p.s. on my beta's advice, I changed the names.
“Tell me you see those, too!” she exclaimed, turning back to face her brother and Ben.Anders squinted. “Looks like an oasis,” he said.Zawadi whipped her head round to look at him. “So, you see it too?” she said, her tone urgent.Anders nodded slowly. “Yah, I see it.” They stopped, staring at the oasis, waiting to see if it was a mirage or not. Then Ben walked around both of them, at a fast clip, heading for it. Anders and Zawadi followed reluctantly behind. So thirsty.So ready for something good to happen. The oasis did not disappear.As they drew nearer, the sand under their feet gave way to tufts of hard yellow grass, which became greener the closer they came to the oasis. The more they saw evidence that they were nearing a water source, the faster they walked.
As I write, I'm also looking for the right cover for this pioneering genre. The first two contendahs are below. Do tell me which you like. Or even if they both repulse you terribly...

This post apocalyptic gay African romance, named 'The Post' is slated for release in September. Sign up for updates to receive other excerpts, news, and information.

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Who is the Real Femme Icon?

So I was walking around the supermarket, humming the theme song for Game of Thrones and wondering why anyone in their right mind wouldn't be watching it.
I'm sorry but it just bugs me.
And y'all say it like you're showing off.
When in reality you're missing out on some of the greatest TV to ever television.
Oh well.
Not what this post is about.
This post is about La Femme and being over-dramatic about Wonderwoman.
I was scrolling on Tumblr about the time Wonderwoman came out and there was a lot of excitement from white Tumblr about Gal Gadot being all, au naturel. I read this one post going on about how every wrinkle and cellulite on the Amazons was highlighted in 3D. And how empowering that was for women etc etc and so on and so forth.
Now ever since I was a kid and Wonderwoman was a cartoon on TV, she had never managed to excite my interest. Never been 'my' super hero.
Frankly, I don't get the hype.
So I watched the movie very begrudgingly just because peer pressure.
I had a number of complaints.
First of all, they jacked the Captain America script.
Only they left out all the human connections which made Captain America: The First Avenger and all subsequent sequels great.

There was no Bucky equivalent and quite frankly they did not get me invested in the interactions between the Amazons or between her group of 'fighters' who were just mirrors of Steve Roger's gang of army Marauders (minus Bucky - I cannot emphasize that enough).
And what was that love interest?
Oh my God whatever Chris Pine's character's name was cannot compare to Peggy Carter. And I have a question. Were there no British actors available? Did they ask Tom Hardy? Did he say no? It was weird.
I have to put a disclaimer here because Chris Pine has attempted to make me care about him in many movies and so far has failed.
All in all, Wonderwoman didn't make me feel like going out there and slaying the hell out of life.
Furthermore, she was supposed to be this run of the mill everyday woman. Look at her. That is not run of the mill or every day. That is some statuesque, ripped, beautiful, sexy womanhood.
And then there is Arya Stark.
A girl.
She's just an ordinary girl. The last born of several boys and a very girly girl. Her sister was the kind of girl other girls want to be.
She wasn't like them though.
She wanted to learn sword play and not needle point.
"Stick 'em with the pointy end." Jon Snow told her when he gave her Needle. Little did he know...
She didn't wake up wanting her hair well coiffed, her clothes perfectly styled.
She woke up like this. But she was flawless anyway.
And when push comes to shove, she was like the most BADASS person, male or female, on screen.
"The North remembers." she said, after exterminating a roomful of men.
Now that made me feel empowered.
That made me feel a bit of warmth in my chest, pride, happiness, like that time Brazil won the world cup when Ronaldo, Rivaldo and Roberto Carlos were still playing. Just...crack. Or how I assume crack makes you feel.
So people are still busy looking for some mythical role model when there she has been for seven years.
Right in front of you.
I love Arya Stark.
She's my favorite serial killer.
But my real role model in this game called life, aside from myself, my mother and my son is....
You guessed it.
This picture was taken today from her meeting with the President of France where she discussed the education of the girl child specifically in Africa. Now we all know that Macron talked some smack about Africa's problem being we have too many children or some shit like that. I don't even care about his ignorant ass. But considering what an ignorant ass he is, he was still eating out of the Queen's hand and offering to launch more programs geared at education in Africa in spite of his views.
That my people is why Rihanna will now and always be the Queen of my heart and the only role model I need. Where she came from, and where she is now, in just ten short years is mind boggling.
And it's real life.

Saturday, 22 July 2017

It's All About the Nuances

You know where I learned the real meaning of the term 'nuance'?
There's nothing like that show for having an entire conversation in a look.
A few days ago, a Somali policeman shot a white woman who had called 911 asking for help.
I am just watching these headlines on twitter and the words of Philando Castile's mother ringing in my head.
"First they come for us, then they come for you."
And they have.
So, is this justified?
Is this a shooting for which 'we don't know the whole story?'
In this case, should we imagine that 'maybe she raped your mother or your sister or another member of your family'?
p.s. These are actual things that people have said to me online when the victim is black.
Well, here we are.
Now that you've taught police that they can shoot and kill without consequences, well...they forgot to mention that that only applies to 'people of color'. It's in the nuance.
Apparently, the cops didn't get that.
Apparently, sometimes you gotta lay it out for them.
You can shoot anyone you want and get away with it...except white folk.

Thursday, 20 July 2017

Dis Tew Much

Ugh, I know! I have been neglecting my blogging duties.
You know?
In my defense, I haven't been updating my fanfic as regularly either.
And writing my stories?
Forget it. If it wasn't for me finding a new beta to read through The Post and push me to pay attention to it, I would be feeling really discouraged with myself right now.
It's just been one job after another.
Not that I'm complaining. $ is always a good thing.
 Which cover do we like? Should this be a poll? Imma make it a poll. On Facebook.

It's been that kind of day when Twitter just went crazy and I need an outlet. So here I am on my blog not even writing about my books or my promotion but about gossip, I didn't even want to hear!
And I say again, ugh!
So first of all, +Jada Pinkett Smith was a drug dealer.
Did you know?
I didn't but somehow it doesn't surprise me. She hasn't quite lost her inner street thug even after twenty years with the King of Bubblegum. Opposites really do attract. I was watching Quad the other day and also Dear White People and thinking that the 'bougie' black people seemed really fake. Like they were all trying to be Joanne the Scammer and behave how they thought white people behave. (What does this have to do with Jada? Patience.)

Anyway, so I tried to think about actual black people who grew up rich and whether they behaved in that 'oh look at me I'm so cultured my voice barely goes above a whisper' way. And the most immediate example that came to me was Jaden and Willow Smith. Now I follow Willow on Instagram and she's somewhere between a fairy and a super-nerd but definitely not those Hilary Banks Wannabes. Hilary Banks felt a lot more genuine than they did. Anyway, so I thought maybe Willow and Jaden weren't the best examples being first generation nouveau riche and their mother being Jada who was clearly Street.
Anyway, I can't wait to read that book she's going to write.
From here on in, it just gets ugly so do yourself a favor and stop reading. Go read some wholesome fiction like this instead.
So Usher.
My fave.
Apparently, he infected his former wife's bridesmaid with herpes.
So much ugly in that one sentence.
I hardly know where to start. Okay, let's tackle the most important thing; Safety First.
Am I the only one who grew up with the ABCs of safe sex?
A - Abstain.
B - Be Faithful
C - use Condoms.
There was a D and E added I think later on but I can't remember what they were. These three though, they were bludgeoned into my mind. I grew up in the eighties and nineties when HIV was still a scary monster so it was really burned into my brain. It wiped out WHOLE VILLAGES in Luoland and Uganda. I guess the difference here is that people got infected maybe but didn't die as much in America so people get cavalier about having unprotected sex.
What the worst that can happen right?
Herpes is just the tip of the iceberg.
Gonorrhea is becoming incurable these days.
AIDS still kills.
But worse than dying from it, is living with it. I've worked in a pharmacy that served a lot of folk with HIV. Lots' of pretty people walked in and out those doors. Healthy looking, attractive, fit and HIV+. Can you imagine going out for a drink with your attractive self and trying to stave off everyone trying to shoot their shot but not being able to tell them why? Being attracted to someone maybe and being afraid to pursue it because you have a big disease with a little name? Or worse, pursuing it and facing the choice of infecting them or telling them and have them make the choice to leave you.
Life with a chronic disease is hard.
Some people have no choice about it.
Don't close your eyes and jump blindly into that life if you can possibly help it.
Oh and nowhere in the ABCs does it say celebrities are exempt.
I'm not even going to talk about sleeping with the fiance of your friend and then suing him when he infects you with a disease.
Speaking of choices, R-Kelly has been accused of having a cult and keeping girls against their will. Said girls were introduced to R-Kelly by their parents....
I can't even.
Robert Kelly is a known pedophile.
A known pedophile.
He likes teenage girls to pee on him.
But here you are introducing him to your teenage daughter and then blaming him when your teenage daughter decides to volunteer for the R-Kelly harem.
Again, ain't nobody a victim here. Y'all are all making bad decisions. Own them.
It makes me think about this review I got about how Mya (in Child of Destiny) was wrong for getting in that situation with Leo; that she should have made different decisions. It's easy to judge a fictional character for fictional situations which reflect what happens in real life; but then in real life, we might be too afraid or whatever, to speak up.
Finally, but not really...
Kevin Hart.
*shakes my head*
There is allegedly a video of him and some singer from Miami, making out in a car.
Now I've never really liked Kevin; he's too thirsty for my taste, but...I thought this cheating thing was supposed to be about circumstances, not habit.
I hope they used condoms.

Sunday, 2 July 2017

An Offer on My Gay Post-Apocalyptic African Romance

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You know I had to.
Well, first of all, I would like to apologize to Shawn Carter for not supporting his hustle legally. I copped the album off the internet. I didn't want to. But Tidal won't even let me sign in so what was a girl to do?
I didn't look for it.
Someone sent it to me.
As soon as Tidal becomes available in Kenya I promise to pay my $9.99 okay?
Okay so let's get on with this synopsis already.

The Story of OJ

Obvs, this is the place to start. I am not a ni**a. I don't even feel qualified to say the word. But this song I feel still applies to me. 
Why you say?
Because at its heart this is a story about the powerFUL versus the powerLESS. And all of us have been one or the other at some point in our lives. We like to separate ourselves from people who we feel are 'lesser than' we are. We are better than them because...reasons.
- I'm more educated/intelligent/pretty/light-skinned/dark-skinned/rich/*insert own superiority a.k.a inferiority complex here*
And if you replace 'ni**a' with 'human', the message remains the same. At the end of the day, you're still a human, and people are still people and you're absolutely no better than anyone else.
So check your privilege.
Or more bluntly, get over yourself.


I'm not going to go song by song but the story of OJ just needed its own fucking paragraph. The things that struck me about this album were manifold. I got the album after seeing lyrics on Twitter and I was intrigued by the use of language to make double and triple entendres.

In the future other niggas playing football with your son
Pregnant Pause...
Yeah, Hov also said 'pregnant pause' but this particular one is mine;
  • See that sentence can be taken at face value.
  • It can be taken as being about Future and Ciara's particular situation.
  • And it can be taken as an example of what happens if you behave like Future did.
  • Also, it could just be Shawn Carter's nightmare about losing his family to another man.
In one. simple. sentence.
My Inner Creative is envious, inspired and applauding.
My Inner Sapiosexual is aroused.

Moving swiftly on...

"You almost went Eric Benet
Let the baddest girl in the world get away
I don't even know what else to say
Nigga, never go Eric Benet
I saw some comments on Instagram about how he should have referenced Carmelo Anthony because Lala is looking fine...

My eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out my head.


And then Eric Benet's responded with how he is with the baddest right now....

Oh honey...

Really? Who made you say that?
Whoever she is isn't even a consolation prize. Just take the L and sit quietly right there in the corner with the other men who failed to grow up in time.

Speaking of men growing up...

Guys? If you want a grown man, you need to find one in his late forties. That's what I'm getting from Kill Jay Z, Family Feud and Caught Their Eyes.
Late 40s people...
Is it sad to know or is it a relief?

Speaking of Caught Their Eyes

"I sat down with Prince; eye to eye,
He told me his wishes before he died,
Now, Londell McMillan, he must be color blind,
They only see green from them purple eyes,
They eyes wide shut to all the lies,
These industry niggas, they always been fishy,
But ain't no Biggie, no lazy eye, huh,
 This guy a slave on his face
You think he wanted a master with his Masters?
You greedy bastards sold tickets to walk through his house,
I'm surprised you ain't auction off the casket, 
First of all, R.I.P to Prince.
Secondly, shout out to my family for not being money grubbing leeches.

And then there was Moonlight...

Y'all niggas still signin' deals? Still?
After all they done stole, for real?
After what they done to our Lauryn Hill?
And y'all niggas is 'posed to be trill? 

This song appealed to me on three levels;

  • The whole "Ni**a is you stupid?" aspect of it is my aesthetic. My inner intellectual superiority complex was alive. 
  • As an artistepreneur and victim of being fucked by the so-called system, it made me want to find out of the box solutions to getting my product to the market. 
  • As someone who is still kind of mad as hell that Moonlight was cheated out of their moment, I am cheerleading. 
And finally although nowhere near finally;

And old niggas, y'all stop actin' brand new
Like 2Pac ain't have a nose ring too, huh

I love that 2Pac is still the SI unit of gangsta-ness. The one true beacon in a sea of fakes.

Also, I'm going to need Young Thug to stop saying he's the new Tupac.


Because he isn't even close.

Can he shut up and sit down.

Now can we move on to the beat?

That jazzy, lazy, grown folk flavor to the album had me wanting to drink some cognac and smoke a cigar in a blue-lit jazz bar while the band plays and Hov speaks to me from the stage. As I listened, I was feeling like, "this is an instant classic" and then I read that No I.D had used a lot of beats from classic songs to produce it and I was like, "Oh, that explains it."

It's very easy on the ears.

And then there's Bam.

It reminds me of 99 problems. It has that same feel of being inside the baddest version of yourself and letting everyone know it. Also apparently I really like reggae these days. Is it Rihanna? Is it Bob Marley? Or is it my dreadlocks?

Whatever it is, I'm rocking out!

We gotta finish this off with some Hov shade. You know what time it is...

Thursday, 29 June 2017

The Middle Aged Freelancer's Life

My body hurts. I think it's all the sitting I've done in the last two and a half weeks; fourteen hours in a pharmacist's chair every day will do that to ya.

So I woke up this morning all bent over, unable to straighten up. Is it growing old or is it my body's way of saying, "Yo girlie! I need you to move around a little bit or else I'm locking up permanently."
Well, since I wasn't about to stay curled up in my bed forever, I got up, crawled/shuffled to the wall, struggled into my shoes and went for a walk.
It started out pretty awkward. I was walking like I'd been sodomized (excuse the crudeness) for a bit, struggling with every step. Then something happened and my body just...relaxed. And I was able to straighten up and walk like a human being.
My lower back still hurts LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER but I can move like a human being as opposed to a duck again.

It's a pain in the ass but I'm kind of glad that my body is built in such a way that it won't let me sit on my fat lazy ass too long without moving about and exercising a little. I don't know if it was because I was quite the sporty chick in my wasted youth or just everyone's built this way. Either way, I'm grateful.
The trials and tribulations of much fun.
Meanwhile, I still have a full workload to complete, books to market and apparently a whole group of literati to mentor.
I find it strange; some people have been coming to me lately to ask me about getting started as a writer; both in freelance writing and in novel writing.
I tell them all the same thing; you just have to do it. Just jump in there and DO IT.
And without exception I've been getting 'but I can't' responses. Like there's a magic formula or a bell that's going to ring to tell you that 'it's time; do it now.'
Okay, so newsflash? There isn't.
When I was in standard one, I had my first swimming lesson. The swimming coach told me to jump in the pool. No instructions, no nothing. Just...
"Jump in the pool."
Okay so it was the shallow end but I hadn't had a swimming lesson before that. I was expecting something along the lines of
"keep hold of the sidebar and kick your legs."
"Jump in now."
Well, I took a deep breath and jumped. My heart also jumped. The water wasn't deep enough for me to sink, or know, get completely submerged. But I was still terrified to jump. Still did it though. I guess it helped that I was an obedient little bugger at the time.
It didn't take me long to learn the basics after that, and pretty soon I was swimming lengths without effort.
What is the analogy here you say?
Well, it's simple really. You can wait and wait for instructions, you can hesitate at the edge of the pool, staring into the water, letting the ifs and buts stop you from getting in the water. Or you can jump in and sink or swim.
I understand fear. Okay, I understand the fear intellectually. My whole life has been about winging it and learning on the fly so I don't really understand the fear, but I get that people are fearful like that. But I have very little advice on how to overcome the fear of doing things.
Just do it.
What's the worst that could happen?
On a completely unrelated side note, I saw that Kendall and Kylie Jenner have superimposed their images on shirts of Tupac and Biggie and are now selling those shirts for $125....
I cannot tell you how...annoyed that makes me. Do whatever you want with Biggie, I don't really care, but putting your plastic asses over Tupac's face?....Man

Saturday, 17 June 2017

Philando Castile

Just finished watching the Wild Thoughts video for the third time and as I am watching I was thinking that Philando Castile will never get to watch this. He'll never get to gawk at Rihanna', bosom. He'll never get to wonder if he hates it or likes it. He'll never get to turn to his wife and ask her what she thinks.

Or wake his daughter up for school. Or call his mother.
He doesn't get to do all these things ever again.
Because he's dead.
His death was recorded live on Facebook by his wife while her daughter sat in the back and a policeman continued to point a gun at him.
 It was a slow death.
I watched it because I didn't think it would end that way. I thought emergency services would come and take him to the hospital like on Third Watch or Rescue Me. I thought the cop would drop the gun and try to perform CPR. I guess that's what happens when you confuse TV for real life.

I just happened to be online and she was filming and broadcasting every movement so the cop wouldn't shoot her too. She had to put her hands on the dash. She couldn't reach over to feel Philando's pulse or try to stop the bleeding. She had to stay still because it could become a bloodbath in there. There was a child in the car.
But the cop is the one who felt unsafe.
He's the one who felt like his life was in danger.
He's the one who gets to go home and watch Wild Thoughts like he didn't end a man's life in cold blood.
My soul is crying.
It's crying for justice.
I only had to watch that video and I feel like somebody should compensate me for the trauma.
How must it be to live it, day in, day out?
I feel that the juries in two cases, Philando Castile's murderer, and George Zimmerman's, have earned a special place in hell. In this place, they get to watch their loved ones shot in the heart, then slowly bleed out in front of them. Nobody calls emergency services. Nobody tries to help. Their hands are tied, they can't help either. Once every single one of their family members is dead, they get to be on the jury of the killer. And they get to return a NOT GUILTY verdict to that killer. A
And this goes on in a loop, over and over like that Tuesday on Supernatural.
As for the cops who go around murdering people like they have a license to kill, I curse you to come back in the next life as a black man. Good luck with that.

Friday, 16 June 2017


This has been that week...
Where everyone I know seems to be having a problem or two with the men in their lives.
And coming to me, a single woman, for advice.

It made me have a lot of thinky thoughts as I am wont to do when trying to solve a problem. And I came to some conclusions which I'd like to share with you.

1. We are not all at the same stage of evolution.
You know how we interact with people and expect them to behave a certain way? Believe certain things automatically? Have a certain standard of intelligence?
Then we just absolutely cannot understand why it doesn't happen that way? Well let me tell you a story and then  we can draw a conclusion.
Yesterday I'm in the matatu going to work and I'm sitting at the seat nearest the door. Now the conductor tells a kid who is sitting on a seat to stand up so an adult can take the seat. He then proceeds to lift the kid and put him in my lap...

I didn't say a word but my face must have said it all because the driver turns around and laughs like 'he put a kid in your lap' har har de har...
I did not say anything because;
- Anyone at my stage of evolution would at least have asked if I minded having a random child dumped in my lap.
- I had just been thinking about how tired I was scrolling down twitter and seeing angry black women angry at stuff men do; I always felt like these men cannot understand you anyway, so who are you ranting to?
- and thirdly the realization in two above let me know that I was dealing with exactly that situation. Men who were at a lower stage of evolution than me (I estimate Cro-Magnon) and even if I complained, they wouldn't get it anyway.
- I didn't really mind the kid on my lap. It's just good manner to ask.
Well anyway, the point I am making is, ensure that you're dealing with someone at the same stage of evolution as you before you proceed to be angry at them for things their minds ain't prepared for.

As if to illustrate my point about different stages of evolution, someone just commented beneath a link to my fanfiction about how the picture illustrates 'homosexuality' which 'we' don't approve of. Anyone who hides behind the collective mind is somewhere around the homo whatever with the club above, so they are not ready to appreciate complex thought processes. But me, being the 'benefit of the doubt' type person, I asked, "We, who?"
What did I get in reply? The name of my story. It's like I'm speaking French and she's still learning the alphabet. We cannot communicate.
So why try?
So if you have a man, who is at a different point of evolution from you; you have two options.
1. Dump his ass and find someone with whom you can connect.
2. Accept your situation and don't complain.
Drink to That.

p.s. Wild Thoughts is out and so are my books.

Sunday, 11 June 2017

Writing Sex Scenes

How have you all been?
My literati group and I try to do this thing where we report in each day on our state of mental, physical, emotional and psychological health. It's very helpful especially when you're having a bad day. Y'all should try it.
I've been swamped with work and that's why I've been kind of MIA but I will try to do better.
Today I want to talk about writing sex scenes.
What is the most favorite sex scene you've ever read or watched or written?
For me, both reading and watching? The wedding night scene between Jamie and Claire is my number one. Slow burn, minimal description of the mechanics, just putting the reader in Claire's head and making you feel like you were right there with her.
Seeing what she sees.
Hearing what she hears.
Feeling what she feels.
That's what a good sex scene is about to me.I've been reading a lot of fanfiction lately because it's usually less than 10k words that I can read on the matatu or on my work breaks or in between prescribing drugs at my locum (I todja, I been busy). So the nature of fan fiction being what it is, there is usually a lot of sex between the characters because apparently when 'fans' see actors fighting on TV what they visualize is them having sex with each other. My tendency to be judgemental aside, the point is that I've read plenty of sex scenes. The thing is, mostly I just skim through it because this is how most people write:
His leg moved up and circled around his partner's neck as his partner leaned in and licked his penis. He gasped and his partner stopped, glancing up at him with a smirk.
"You're just a slut for it right? You love it when I fuck you. Slut."
And he shuddered with ecstasy at being called a slut and got even wetter and couldn't wait for his partner to breach him and fuck him into the mattress twenty times.

What is this fixation with calling people you're having sex with 'slut'? It's not realistic. Do YOU like being called a slut in the middle of sex? It's just stupid, puritan bullshit that is now spreading like wildfire and infecting other people. Hi, Amerikkka.
In order to understand the purpose of a sex scene, it's imperative to know why sex scenes are written or portrayed.
1. To advance the story.
This is of course, the most compelling reason to write a sex scene. For example, Child of Destiny begins with a sex scene of dubious consent. This act sets up a domino effect for the rest of the book. I wrote it from both the point of view of the guy and the girl. Here's an excerpt:

Her lips are so soft. He wasn’t expecting that; almost unconsciously, his lips pressed down on hers. Now their tongues were intertwined, it was difficult to know whose tongue was whose.
She felt dizzy with shock and dismay like all the blood had left her head; she leaned into him to keep some sort of balance and her breast pressed against his chest.
Bigger than they look…was his incoherent thought as his hands rose of their own accord and circled her surprisingly tiny waist. Apparently underneath all the grandma sweaters was the body of a seventeen-year-old girl.
A hot seventeen-year-old girl’
The blood in his body was pooling a little lower than his head as he sank his teeth gently into her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking with lips gone suddenly hot. “I want her! “ He thought with surprise.’ how did that happen?’

‘This is crazy’ was her last coherent thought before she was surrounded by madness. She felt a sudden draft across her chest and realized that her dress was unbuttoned all the way down to the waist and Leo’s hands were everywhere – touching, caressing, squeezing, and pinching. Her nipples were painfully erect and seemed to cry out for his mouth without bothering to consult her. As if he heard their silent cry, his lips moved from hers and fastened themselves on her left breast. She felt dizzy and confused, as she pressed his head tight to her breast. She tried to control her breathing but it was impossible, and she was gasping like there was not enough oxygen in the whole world for a fortifying breath. Leo was making a low growling sound deep in his throat like a cat purring over a succulent piece of meat. Suddenly he picked her up and threw her onto her bed. A few seconds later, she was divested of her dress and the covering that her embarrassingly huge granny panties had afforded her vagina was replaced by his hot mouth. She froze in shock at the action and the sensation. She was torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him even deeper into her. She compromised by moaning out loud.

The point is to follow the feelings and not the mechanics of sex. Because the mechanics are always the same. Point A goes in slot B. The rest is semantics. So to keep your reader engaged it's necessary to give them something more.

2. Gratuitous Gratification a.k.a porn without plot or PWP
Ah, erotica....what would we do without it? Men watch porn, women read erotica. So the purpose of writing this type of sex scene is to get people as hot and bothered as possible. Some do that by using explicit language.
Not only that but by describing privates in a barbified, fantastical manner.
"His huge dick."
"Her wet warm pussy."
"His raging cock rammed into her warm wet center."
Describing sensation; taste, hearing, touch, sound, sight. Make the reader feel every thrust.
Sometimes you're writing about a sex scenario which the reader cannot relate to.
For example, the dom/sub scenario might be incomprehensible to some (me) and if you manage to describe what the participants are going through in a way that will make me 'get it' then you can tick the 'expert' box on the writing sex scenes questionnaire. Haven't yet come across a writer who has done that but maybe that is because y'all don't get that we don't need to know that 'he whipped her thirty times until the welts were apparent on her skin and she was wet and ready for him.'
Okay then...
This is what I visualize when I read that stuff.
Other people prefer euphemisms to describe sex.
He touched her centre of venus with his strobe of fire and she felt her whole body yield to his onslaught. Sounds vaguely historian or British but it gets enough panties wet to be persistently popular. I'm pretty sure it's - again - the puritan crowd that influences this style of writing.

Personally I like to try this new thing where the description of sex scenes is based on reality where the sounds aren't always sexy, sometimes someone farts...the bodies aren't perfect and neither are the people involved. However, the feelings are real as fuck.

Whatever reason that you're writing your sex scene, you have to remember that the emotional connection is the key. Whether it's love, hate, lust, desire, neediness...You need to find a way to bring that out. Make your audience feel that connection, and get invested in it. That's how you draw them in.

Speaking of fanfiction, I just recently finished the third part of my War of the Winchesters fanfic. I'm so proud of how it turned out. Exceeded all my expectations. Go read it.